Ouranized Mayhem
by ursulamorgan
Summary: The Host Club, if you squint - doing what they usually do, if you suspend disbelief. This is pure parody: a sarcastic take on a literary work (or series) for comic effect. If you're easily offended, this story is not for you. The OHSHC and Ouran fanfiction, itself, is roasted until well-done. Are you strong enough to be my reader? We'll see.


**Warning: This is meant to be funny. Sorry if it's not. I crack myself up, but sometimes people look at me strangely. It's fine by me. I'm happy with who I am. I just think we writers get a bit uptight about our so-called "works of art" and/or that some of us are just plain ole cray-cray (-point to self- No, silly. You're supposed to point to _yourself_, not me. Jeez. ) For the record, I'm an equal opportunity abuser when taking liberties with the Ouran 'verse. All characters have been skewered and are, most definitely, out of character...and yet strangely satisfying. No animals have been harmed in the writing of this story. Any resemblance to anyone or anything living or dead is absolutely intentional. Onward!  
**

* * *

_It was the best of times. It was the worst of times._ No, wait! Sorry. Do over...

* * *

It was a beautiful day and the pale pink phallic symbol of Ouran Academy's clocktower was chiming a bright melody to announce the end of the academic school day. In Music Room #3, the Host Club was preparing to do it's usual thing - flirt with their guests and pretend to drink tea or coffee, all the while fantasizing about Haruhi doing perverted things with each of them and/or all of them. You know, the usual teenage boy stuff. Well, usual for the Host Club, anyway. Kyoya was at his little writing desk, balancing the books and groaning.

"Kyoya?" Tamaki asks his Shadow King, his delivery somewhat concerned but only in a "is this going to affect me?" way. He throws his arms around the brunet's neck and Kyoya shrugs him off. Tamaki audibly sighs as his sometime lover-or-not and reluctant sidekick/best friend makes clear he doesn't want to be disturbed. But Tamaki is not so easily put off and he tries his ploy again, blowing into Kyoya's ear just to tease him.

"What do you want now, idiot?!" the brunet scowls, shoving him away yet again. Tamaki pouts.

"Must you call me that?"

"It's in the contract."

"What contract?"

"The one you forced me to sign, remember?" Kyoya recollects in a tone both sarcastic and bored.

"Oh right. Forgot about that. But I had to - what you _were_ calling me was nasty and "idiot" didn't seem so bad - I'm blond, aren't I?" Tamaki gazes up at the ceiling with an overly-long index finger pressed to his cheek.

"Hey, watch it, Tama-chan," Honey complains as he and Mori enter the salon, the loli-shota perched on the tallest host's shoulders. "I'm blond, too." No flowers encircle his golden locks and that means he - is - angry or just bi-polar, maybe both.

"I rest my case," Tamaki declares, feeling very smart for a fair-haired boy. "Looks like Haruhi isn't the only future attorney around here."

Kyoya mutters to himself, "How the fuck did I end up in this loony bin?"

"Kyoya, mon coeur," Tamaki scolds, standing beside the table in a dramatic pose. "Must I refresh_ your_ memory? The author needed ten more pages. She admitted that you were an afterthought and don't you forget it." Kyoya's spectacles glint ominously and lavender roses shoot out from behind his head.

Tamaki ignores him, now on a roll as he saunters about Music Room 3, chatting to the walls. "And while we may be loony, we're also incredibly sexy, smart, gorgeous and rich - so all is forgiven." He pauses in place and looks down, suddenly somber. "But then, we don't really exist."

"Meaning what, Boss?" Hikaru queries from the long sofa where he reclines, perusing internet porn on his iPhone while spooning with his submissive twin, Kaoru.

Tamaki's cheeks burn red. "Oopsies," he hedges. "Don't you know?"

"Know what?" Kaoru asks, looking up from his own iPhone where vids of himself and Hikaru from last night are playing. He already knows what Tamaki doesn't think he knows but he knows just the same. He just doesn't doesn't want to piss off Hikaru by being smarter, or there will be blood.

The room has gone strangely quiet. Tamaki clears his throat and adopts his best Host manner. "For the record, we're a figment of someone's imagination."

"A what?" Mori asks, eyes wide, startled into real speech.

"A filament?" Honey asks, sounding confused. "That can't be right. Those are the things inside the light bulbs that showed up in the first episode never to appear again. I have to say that I don't really like the idea of only being in one episode."

Mori chuffs, spurred by his surprise into multiple sentences. "At least you have lines, Mitsukuni," he says and he sets his cousin on his feet. "And I still don't get the whole loli-shota thing. Girls thinking sexual thoughts about an 18 year old who acts like an 8 year old is pretty weird, and perverted stories with you and Haruhi are plain creepy."

"Well, yeah," Honey agrees with a smile. "But I get plenty of action."

"We all do," Kyoya reminds smugly, turning his chair to face the assembled group. "And the reason we do is because we are precisely what our fearless leader claims. We are fictional, not real, two-dimensional; a blank canvas upon which our fans can project their love needs in perfect fashion making us the perfect non-boyfriend boyfriend."

"In other words," says Hikaru. "Our sweat is sweet."

"Precisely," Kyoya concurs.

Kaoru sits up, head cocked to one side and eyes squinching. "What the fuck does that mean - our sweat is sweet?"

Tamaki walks over and pounds the ginger on his head with his fist. "You dunce. It means that no matter what we do, we do it to perfection."

"In other words, Kao, our shit don't stink," Hikaru bluntly states.

"Of course," Tamaki brags. "We're multiply gifted in every way or haven't you noticed? I, myself, am particularly perfect because I am the star of the series."

"Like you don't tell us every chance you get," Kaoru offsides to Hikaru, who snickers as Tamaki continues to pontificate.

"We are so perfect, in fact, that if someone were to make us up and write about us in fanfiction, we'd be accused of being an OC."

"An OC? What's that?" Honey asks.

A blackboard rolls in from the side of the room and stops somewhere near the twins. Tamaki postures before it, making notations on its dark slate surface with rainbow colored chalk. On the board, he writes the words "Canon" and "OC." Everyone in the room is watching now as Tamaki plays teacher. "Now listen up, men. Canon characters are the original characters of a story developed by their true creator or approved by them for use in other formats."

"And OC?" inquires both twins, simultaneously.

"An OC is an unapproved character imagined by an otaku who uses it to insert themselves into a fanfiction story as their favorite character's love interest or best bud, a troubled soul or the savior of the story. Of course, they'll deny this to the day they die."

"He said it!" shouts Kaoru.

"The O-word!" adds Hikaru.

"OTAKU!" they scream together and clutch at one another in fear.

"Kaoru, Hikaru," lectures Kyoya, pushing at his glasses - again. "Please calm down. You know we need_ all_ of the stories to keep us alive and going head-to-head with some of the heavy hitters in this genre. Our rank is slipping. We're still in the Top 20 in terms of numbers, but barely, so every posting counts towards keeping us front and center of the crowd. Besides, some of those canon writers are pretty good, actually, and some of those OCs have special talents, if you take my meaning." Kyoya's snarky smirk is especially snarky and especially smirky.

"Kyo-chan is right, guys," Honey says, hugging Usa-chan to his chest. "In the commercial series, we can only be suggestive, but in our fans' stories and artwork we actually get laid!" Ah, the flowers are back.

"Quite so," grants Kyoya, "And in those stories, whether canon or O.C. populated, we are almost always well-endowed. And for some of us, it's true." He is, of course, referring to himself, true or not, and everyone knows it. Kyoya glances over at Mori, who has a mildly disgruntled look on his face. Not wishing to create an undue scene, he clears his throat and returns to his scribbling.

"Um, senpai?" Kaoru asks quietly, "What exactly are _you_ always writing about?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Kyoya responds without looking up.

"Actually, I would. I heard you write smutty stories yourself," teases Hikaru.

Kyoya snaps the notebook shut and places it in his bookbag, locking it before coming to join the group. "Soft porn does have a growing niche market, but there's no money to be made in the industry except by the producers and distributors."

"Sounds like you checked it out, senpai."

"Of course, Hikaru. Profit is profit. The stars may even have a certain cachet within their milieu, unlike egalitarian social media sites that indulge the whims of every wannabe celebrity and attention-whore for a scrap of momentary attention."

"You're talking about those online sites where people post their selfies and philosophies of life?" Kaoru suggests.

"Or," adds Kyoya, "the ones who feel a need to share every aspect of their pathetic lives." The twins look at one another.

"We do that all the time," Kaoru says.

"Yeah, to one another," Hikaru counters.

"Even when we're in the same room."

"What's so wrong about that, senpai?"

"I suppose nothing," Kyoya postulates, "although reading about your toileting habits is quite T.M.I."

"You bloggernecker, you. So you read them, then?" Kaoru is excited.

"I'm afraid I simply skim - the Spark Notes of Blogging, if you will. They're a good source of information on just about anybody, although my accounts are purely observational in nature."

"I noticed that, Kyoya," says Tamaki. "Your page just has info about the Ootori Group. Pretty dull, mon ami."

"I'm not seeking to be interesting to the masses, Tamaki, because I'm already a fascinating character, late addition or otherwise."

"Well," the blond says running the fingers of one hand through his hair. "My page is _filled_ with selfies and my blog is, of course...the best! I have 347,000 friends, Kyoya."

"Oh, you do not," reproves Kyoya, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Do so."

"Do not."

"Do so."

"DO. NOT."

"Alright, then. Maybe they're not all friends, but they follow my every move."

Kyoya rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Waste your time that way."

"So what do you do for entertainment, Kyo-chan?" Honey asks, genuinely curious.

"Anything but social media sites. First of all, if anyone can do it, I do not. And if I'm going to waste time, it has to be productive."

Hikaru cocks his head. "I thought wasting time was supposed to be fun."

"Or look like work while you're doing it so the teacher doesn't figure it out," appends Kaoru.

"That's fine for you, two, of course. You're wealthy and no matter how well or poorly you prepare for a career, you're set for life. All of us here are set for life so wasting time becomes an art form to be perfected. It's a job in and of itself."

"Why is everything about work with you, Kyo-chan?" the small blond wonders. "Maybe you should just relax a little. Eat some cake. Or me!" Mori gasps and everyone turns to see what the tough-looking host will do. Mori looks at everyone looking at him, and then Honey with sad eyes. "I'm sorry, Takashi," Honey apologizes giving Mori a soulful pout. "It kinda sorta slipped out."

"Hnn."

"I believe I was speaking," Kyoya says in his Vice-presidential voice, which reverts attention back to himself. "That's better. Now, as I was about to say...Ootoris don't relax. We're workaholic neurotics. But since we don't _have_ to work, our neurosis is viewed as a noble virtue."

"So, let me get this straight," the loli-boy ponders. "When commoners waste time, it's awful; but when we waste time, it's great?"

"It's a mystery, indeed," Kyoya replies, "but true. And while it seems unlikely, these time-suck activities are critical for the elite."

"How's that?"

"According to my father, they keep the gentry amused and the common masses lulled into a torpor of non-action and complacency."

"Stop using fifty-dollar words, Kyoya," reminds Tamaki, sounding peeved. "You know the Hitachiins are barely passing their 1A classes."

"Yeah, senpai. Use simple words that us dummies know," Kaoru demands.

"Fine. All this wireless chatter is nothing more than brain static that helps keep the people pacified and under control. The real kicker is the subliminal visual and sound manipulation that induces a post-hypnotic suggestion to spend money on things you don't need. As a medical family, I can tell you that EMF waves are poisoning us as we speak through our electronics, as is Genetically Modified food'; but it's good for my family's business so we approve of it for others, just not ourselves."

"I think that's a little far-fetched," Mori suggests, but looks worried.

"Truth is always stranger than fiction, men, so remember to think for yourself or you'll regret not listening to me."

"We know," come the combined annoyed voices of everyone present.

"But you visit those sites, too, Kyoya," whines Tamaki. "And your phone is practically grafted onto your ear."

"Not yet, but one of our R&D departments is working on it."

Kaoru gives the dark-haired host a sidewards glance and smile, as if recollecting a memory. "You didn't seem to mind the instructional online vids we watched to figure out what went where, senpai," the ginger reminds with a nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Hikaru glowers at them both and shoves two fingers into Kaoru's side, hard.

"Owww! Hika!" Hikaru is immediately apologetic and takes Kaoru into his arms. "I'm sorry, Kaoru. I just get so jealous. Forgive me?" He bats his eyelashes and Kaoru capitulates at once.

"Oh, alright. But I only did with senpai 'cause I was tired of being the catcher and Kyoya offered to switch-hit. It didn't mean anything."

Kyoya mouth is a thin line. "Does that mean you were disappointed in me, Kaoru?"

"It wasn't bad, but you do give new meaning to the words, "tight ass."

The cool host remains unrattled, then says, "You're a considerate lover, Kaoru, though Mori's physique beats yours by a mile."

"I heard that!" Honey yells from where he sits in Mori's lap on a nearby chair. Mori is smiling, happy to have been acknowledged.

Kaoru is miffed. "Thanks for reminding me why I broke up with you and went back to Hika, douche."

"My pleasure."

"Takashi?" Honey asks looking up at his companion with big brown saucer eyes.

"Hnn."

"Did you fuck Kyoya and not tell me?"

"Nuh-uh."

"I could accept it, you know."

"Nuh-uh."

"Tell me. C'mon..." Honey cajoles.

"Use your words, Mori-senpai," Kyoya articulates precisely but with some annoyance at the ongoing conversation, having observed that Tamaki is once again crouched down in a corner. "Our guests may appreciate your quiet stoicism, but non-verbal communication has its drawbacks. It's why humans developed language, after all."

Mori glares at Kyoya and then at Honey. "What part of nuh-uh don't you understand, Mitsukuni?"

"Oh. Ok," Honey says in a small voice. Turning towards Kyoya, he explains, "See? This is why Takashi needs _me_ around. He really has a very limited vocabulary and if he tried to make conversation, our guests would think he has a low IQ."

Mori demonstrates neither response nor expression, so Honey giggles with child-like glee. "See what I mean?" The diminutive boy grabs the cheeks of the larger, heavier boy and pulls his head down. "Ta-ka-shi" he sings as he presses little kisses onto the silent host's face. "You know I love you, right?"

"Really?" Mori replies without further explanation, but allows Honey to make nice.

Kyoya grumbles. "Our guests will be here any minute. Please just wait until after hours and get a room for that. I don't care what you do with each other then, but I don't want to lose any profits because of it."

"But we smooch in front of the ladies all the time," chime the twins.

"Yes, but our guests aren't sure if you're really homosexual or just putting on an act which is why it's palatable. Genuine homosexuality would probably scare the panties right off of them."

The sound of cracking stone vibrates the room as a huge motor is heard rising from the middle of the now-destroyed Cararra marble floor and their self-proclaimed manager and resident pain-in-the-ass, Renge, arrives. Her maniacal laugh grates on everyone's nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard; except, Tamaki, having been startled by the noise, has jumped up and is really scraping his manicured fingernails down the chalkboard sending a shudder of pain through them all.

"So," she calls to them from eight feet above, "You're finally coming to understand that you're all omni-sexual and make-believe. 'Bout time, though I have to say that panties off could be a good thing, you know. Maybe you'll start acting like real boys instead of the prissy teases that you are."

"We don't mind panties off," the twins assent in unison, having run over to where Renge is and looking upwards.

"Stop looking up my skirt, you perverts!" Renge yells, snakes sprouting from her head as the twins slink away, snickering.

"I would have thought pink thong," says Hikaro to Kaoru sotto-voce as they retire to their sofa.

"But boy-shorts are okay, especially red ones. I like red."

"I didn't know that, Kao. Why didn't you say something sooner? We'll go shopping this weekend, ok?

"V.S.?"

"Where else? But let's call ahead to see if they have your size before we go."

"You got it!"

Kyoya does a face-palm as Renge's platform descends and she steps towards the group. "Well, Renge," says the Shadow King, "You've certainly added something new to this story."

"About time, doncha think? So...Kyoya...what do you really think of a No-Panties day? Or a Let's-Go-Commando day? We can dress up in camo-prints and carry fake Uzis. It could be hot."

"I wouldn't object but then we'd have to deal with the ladies' appetites and it's just too much work satisfying that many girls in a single afternoon. It's impossible to make a profit. Besides, it always messes up my silky raven hair and..." he pauses.

"And what?"

"Tamaki has no idea what "going commando" means and for all of his flirting, he's pretty under-informed. If it wasn't for me, he'd still be a virgin."

"Really? Who'da thought? So are you really gay or just what, Kyoya?"

"Does it matter that much to you, Renge?"

The honey-blonde charges up to Kyoya, a finger stabbing into his chest. "Matter? Did you say does it matter? You're nothing but a vag-tease," Renge scolds. "You get the girls all hot and bothered but you never actually do anything with any of them. Just what is up with that? Or maybe…it's not," she sneers.

"That's an interesting notion in its own way," drawls the Shadow King, pleased with himself that he's only used the phrase once in the story so far. Meanwhile, Renge's snakes are growing larger and longer as she confronts him, standing with her arms akimbo because she likes the word, "akimbo."

"If you need me to explain why mystery is the essence of seductiveness," Kyoya says cooly, "then you haven't learned much by hanging around with us, Renge. And I'm rather surprised. You should know this from all of the shojo anime and manga you peruse. Even Kirimi Nekozawa gets that angle and she's just a kid."

"Kirimi, shmirimi. I saw you making cute with her teenaged self in Wonderland so I don't buy the gayboy act. It's just not fair! I came to Japan to get laid by you and you haven't done a thing to help with that. I'm giving you the opportunity of a lifetime here. A LIFETIME!"

"And I suppose you'll say that losing your virginity is no big deal although you seem to have made very specific plans for it."

Renge flips her hair off of her shoulder with one hand saying, ""A girl does has to have standards, after all."

"Admirable, but so do I; and I'm definitely particular about where I insert certain parts of my body."

"That's why you're with me, right Kyo?" Tamaki casts puppy eyes at his boy/best friend.

"It's a bit awkward and non-hygienic, Tamaki, but it's what you require me to do. I certainly don't prefer it."

"And I do? Maybe I'd like to be the pitcher once in a while, y'know?"

"When hell freezes over, my friend. Kaoru is all I can accommodate."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment, senpai?" Kaoru asks, "because I'm a little insulted."

Before Kyoya can reply, a mere handful of red rose petals swirl about the double-doors as they swing open. Kyoya flips open the laptop resting on a table and types, _Petal blower still jammed. Call tech assist and threaten to have fired if not repaired before club tomorrow._

Haruhi enters the room and the twins scamper over to her. "Haruhi is finally here! Hoo-ray! Play! Play!"

The natural host with chocolate brown orbs for eyes scowls, one hand supporting her lower back as she snarls, "Fuck off, boys. I've got a migraine, my dad is a tranny and I'm pregnant…again!"

The twins wrap their arms around her shoulders in comfort, saying, "You poor little mutt. So you're going to have it?"

"Don't I always? Sheesh."

"But you have…" Kaoru counts on his fingers and gives up after ten.

"Just how many kids _do_ you have now anyway?" Hikaru asks.

"Who's the father this time, Haru-chan?" inquires the loli-shota who not only has hyper-thyroidism but a personality disorder according to Dr Yabu, who just happens to be a psychiatrist _and_ a quack.

"Nekozawa-senpai," says with a deep sigh as she flops down the sofa, twins flanking her on either side.

"No way!" Kaoru exclaims in disbelief.

"I thought _we_ were your friends," shouts Hikaru. "Getting knocked up...well...that's what friends are for!"

"I'm not deaf, Hikaru, though I will be if you keep shouting into my ear like that. Listen, underneath that dark crap he wears, the guy is hot and except for the weird occult stuff, he's a prety good lay. Actually, I think the occult stuff helped set the mood or maybe it was the wine. I- I think he slipped me something on our first date, but I did have three orgasms which is more than the two of you ever accomplished for me - combined."

"Well, we talk a good game," says Kaoru with sympathetic eyes. "But it's true. We really don't do anything with girls except talk."

"Tell me about it," Haruhi grumbles. "Hey, Daddy-dearest," she calls across the room.

Tamaki crawls over on all fours to where Haruhi is and sits up in a begging position. "What is it my chocolate-brown doe-eyed beloved, one-that-I-live-for, future Mrs. Suo/Suou/Suoh? Can I assist you with something today? Need me to twirl you around a gazillion times and spout nonsense? I can do that for you and byooo-ti-fully."

"Do we have any cake? I'm hungry." Haruhi unbuttons her blazer, revealing a nicely rounding tummy.

"Wow," says Hikaru. "How far along are you?"

"Four months, thank kami. The morning sickness was gross, but now I'm hungry all the time. Go figure."

Tamaki leans in, his fingers splayed on her thighs as he looks deeply into her eyes, murmuring, "It's the pregnancy, my darling daughterl. But you really should give the cake a rest." He pulls out of his blazer pocket what looks like a scorecard with dates and numbers on it. "You've already gained 20 pounds and on your small frame, it doesn't look so good."

"Shove it, senpai, and get me something sweet. And not that strawberry-kiwi-custard tarte crud. I need the good stuff - double chocolate Sacher torte with a vanilla canoli chaser."

Tamaki's eyes go blank at his daughter's disrepsect, but he rises and heads off to see if the pantry has something chocolate. Honey leaves Mori's lap and comes bounding over. "I'll get the cake, Haru-chan. Let's have some Sacher torte together."

"Yeah, whatever. Hey, Mori-senpai?"

"Hnn?"

"Could you get your b.j. buddy outta my face?" Honey looks very sad, eyes brimming with tears as Mori lifts him up and carries him away.

"Well, Haruhi. You seem to be in a foul mood today," Kyoya declares from a safe distance, unwilling to bear the brunt of Haruhi's hormonal disequilibrium. He's switched from scribbling to tapping on his laptop.

"Stuff it, senpai. You gave me up for the Sino-Franco blond-wunderkind over there and for that I can never forgive you."

"It was in the contract," Kyoya repeats as mantra, pushing up his glasses for the umpteenth time.

"Screw the contract!" Haruhi shouts. "Everybody and their brother from another mother knows we're supposed to be the One True Pair, but because you get added on as an after-thought I miss out on the big bucks; which I could really use, in case you hadn't noticed."

Tamaki is returning with a plate and a glass of milk for the expectant mom. "Please Haruhi. Don't be crass. You're beginning to sound like Octo-mom."

"Well, having all these kids is freakin' expensive," grouses Haruhi. "I might just have to make a sex tape like those Kardashians or Paris Hilton to feed the brood." Kyoya's eyes light up and his fingers fly as he calculates potential profits.

"Oh Haruhi, no," cries Tamaki. "My little girl would never do anything so un-ladylike or demeaning as make a sex tape."

"Why not? I've been laid more times than a Hollywood starlet by those damn fanfiction writers and I'm Japanese! Guess they don't know that Japanese teenage boys only do sex with virtual reality game chicks and their right hand."

"Left," corrects Hikaru. "You gotta be able to play, too."

Haruhi groans and takes the plate from Tamaki. "You call this a slice? Damn skinny rich people." She finishes the sliver Tamaki has provided and smiles to herself with obvious delight.

"Wow. Who knew cake could taste better than raw fish? I think my taste buds have changed or something 'cause this cake is fucking awesome."

"Milk, Haruhi?" Tamaki proffers in a tiny voice and the chubby brunette takes it and drinks it all down, a little bit dribbling down her chin. Tamaki looks incredibly concerned and a little grossed out. She hands the glass and plate back to him. "Thanks, senpai. Sorry for being a royal bee-otch."

"It's fine. If this is what makes you happy, I'm good with it. Excuse me." He heads back to the prep room, but pauses at the doorway. Looking back once, he covers his mouth as if to stifle a vurp and disappears.

"So, what was I saying? Oh yeah. Japanese boys and their toys. See? I think I've always known that none of you were really interested in girls, but it doesn't matter because most of you aren't very - um - equipped, shall we say? I _do_ have eyes, you know." The twins look at each other, amazed at the brunette's keen observational skills. Mori looks pissed again and Honey giggles. Kyoya has his "oh, really?" expression on his face to which Haruhi lectures, "And that includes you, third son of the Ootori Family."

Try as he might to disguise his hurt, Kyoya's bottom lip actually quivers. "You really are a bitch, Haruhi."

"Which is why I finally had to go to the Russian dude to get some real action."

Renge, who has been silently observing all this time, walks over and stands directly in front of Haruhi, arms still in her favorite position. "So, you really _did_ hook up with my Umehito, huh? Haruhi, you ignorant slut, I hate you."

Haruhi points two index fingers at her belly. "It was clearly some time ago, you expatriate, so don't get your panties in a bunch. I know you two are dating now." She shrugs. "Turns out the Tokarev dynasty doesn't appreciate a commoner in their family any more than any of the rest of you rich bastards. Nekozawa dumped me as soon as he found out I was preggers and then he suggested that we offer the baby to Beelzebub as an acolyte after it's born."

"Haruhi?" Mori queries softly.

"What is it?"

"I would have you in my family." He's being sweet and real with her. So Mori of him.

"Thanks, senpai, but that's only because your family used to be commoners, too. Then you got smart or lucky or both and married up. Marry me and you'll definitely be living in the servant quarters again."

Mori sighs a deep sigh while Honey climbs him like a tree and straddles his neck. "She's right, you know. It's _my_ family that has the money and the connections. But Takashi does have his good points, don't you?" Honey croons as he lay his fluffy head against the spiky dark hair of the Morinozuka, then chortles, "Piggy back ride! Piggy back ride! C'mon Takashi. Do it!" And he does, bouncing the loli-boy around the room providing Honey with perverse pleasure where Honey's crotch rubs up and down Mori's neck.

The twins simply watch. "Hey Kaoru?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe we should try that. It could be fun."

"I am not giving you a piggy-back ride, Hikaru. Forget it. Besides, it's not all that different from the frottage games we play at home, anyway."

"True, true," Hikaru agrees, but he's still fascinated.

"This is boring," Renge avers and stepping back onto her platform, descends with her motor, leaving behind a damaged marble floor.

Tamaki's slim profile appears in the doorway of the prep room. He looks distressed. "My father isn't going to like having to fix the floor again. I wish Renge would just use the door like everyone else."

"Or bring his own," states Kyoya, "Like Nekozawa does. He's weird, but tidy. It's probably his royal background." Kyoya is just glad that Yuzuru Suoh will pay for the floor instead of the funds coming from the club's treasury.

"_He's_ weird, alright," says Haruhi in a conspiratorial way. "If you think Kuma-bear and Usa-chan are odd sleeping companions - uh, sorry Honey-senpai - Nekozawa sleeps with a life-sized voodoo doll and handguns."

Tamaki rushes over and pulling Kaoru off the sofa without ceremony, sits next to Haruhi. "Haruhi, please. Stay away from him. He knows S&M - real hardcore stuff."

"Oh, so you mean the blindfold and earplugs were softcore?"

The Host King is offended. "I _told_ you I wasn't trying anything with you!"

"Oh, so how do you know what's hardcore and what's softcore, huh? Tell me that."

Tamaki's entire face burns and he covers his mouth as Kyoya intervenes with, "Online websites, of course; like everyone else learns about sex these days."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. But seriously, Neko-kun already tried that M&M stuff with me but I'd already read that crappy book about the ugly girl who's so messed up that she lets the abusive-but-somehow-lovable predator twist her into knots - literally - so I kneed him in the nuts as soon as I saw the heavy-duty cable ties come out."

"Haruhi," suggests Kyoya, "maybe _you_ should write a story like that. I hear that writer made a tidy sum for herself and the story was pure garbage."

"She had connections in the industry, senpai. And I've had enough of kinky sex. I've had enough of sex altogether. I just want to raise my kids so they don't repeat my mistakes."

"All alone?" Honey asks still thinking about heavy-duty cable ties.

"Well, if you must know…BossaNova-kun has offered to help."

"Whoa!" they all groan in unison.

"I thought Casanova was gay," states Hikaru.

"Is Tetsuya upset?" Honey wonders, thinking about the cute pony-tailed boy bound in heavy-duty cable ties and a ball-gag.

"Nah. He's a really cool guy, actually. And NORMAL. He and Carcinoma are gonna adopt the baby and raise it as a couple."

"Children _always_ do better with a mom and a dad," Mori quietly states.

"I'm the mom, Mori-senpai, remember? And most of us here were raised by single parents or have totally dysfunctional families in some way or another."

"Not mine," Mori says a bit sheepishly.

"So that's why you're a selective mute, then, eh? Oh...I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a bitch but I'm tired, you know? I mean physically tired. And don't tell Renge, but Neko-kun showed up at my house last night and insisted on giving me a tour of all the occult sites in Tokyo yesterday. He said a pregnant woman had a special vibe or something like that. We finally ended up in the cemetery and had sex on my mother's grave."

All the hosts look shocked and have nothing to say, leaving Mori's soft voice exposed in the background saying, "Eeeeewww."

"Now, now," placates Kyoya with a raised hand. "Let's not be judgmental about others' perversions. All's fair between consenting adults, after all.

"But we're not adults, senpai," Haruhi complains, "I know teenagers in lots of countries are banging at fourteen but, I'm telling you now, if one more fanfic writer makes me have sex with all of you, I'm going to scream. Renge thinks I'm a slut for sleeping with one guy, let alone six. I'd never get any homework done, lose my scholarship, get kicked out of Ouran and have to explain to my dad why his pride and joy has to wear mom-jeans with an elastic tummy panel."

"And has a perpetual vaginal yeast infection," Tamaki empathizes.

"Actually, I could get you some medicine at a discount, I'm sure," the Host from the medical family volunteers. Haruhi's eyes shimmer at Kyoya's rare show of empathy and a single tear slips down her cheek. All the hosts, by now, are looking at their secret princess with concern. Kyoya walks over and hands Haruhi his monogrammed handkerchief. Haruhi blows her nose into it with a small honking sound and tries to give it back. Kyoya grimaces.

"Keep it," he says. "I have others."

"Thank you, senpai. You really can be nice when you try."

"I'm not trying to be nice, Haruhi. I don't want your germs."

"Oh. Sorry for offering it back then."

"Apology accepted."

Honey has disappeared and reappeared with a plate bearing a huge slice of Sacher-torte. "Here you go, Haru-chan. Eat up and don't worry about your figure. You're pregnant! It's a joyous time of a young woman's life. The seed of a new being is blossoming inside of you and…

"Oh, just shut up," Haruhi gripes.

Mori hands her a fork and napkin, still embarrassed over his aural faux pas, though you'd never know it from his expression. "You need to stay healthy and about the grave thing…."

"Forget about it. I've been written doing a lot worse. But thanks, Mori-senpai."

"Hnn."

Kaoru has removed her socks and shoes and is rubbing her feet, refraining from sucking on her toes, much as he wants to, while Hikaru stands behind the sofa and massages her shoulders, his hands beneath her blazer and edging towards her plumping pregnant breasts. Kyoya and Tamaki come to sit on either side of her.

"You know, Haruhi," croons Tamaki. "We can help you feel better."

"As well as prove that we're not just hot for guys," adds Kyoya.

Mori and Honey stand in front of her, loving looks on their faces.

Haruhi looks at each of her friends/boyfriends/lovers/schoolmates/classmates/babydaddies/fuckbuddies and sometime pests.

"You guys," she says with a winsome smile and once again, all is well…until they pounce and Haruhi is heard yelling at the top of her lungs, ""Would you all just get the fuck off me! I'm pregnant, for Chrissakes. What is wrong with all of you?!

And yet, somehow, she likes it (?)

The End

**Author's Notes: Regardless of how well or not this story plays depends on the audience. I'm a fanfic writer who's seen it all, so I know that reviews, favourites and follows do not mean that your story is good OR bad. I've read fantastic stories that have minimal response because it's not what the fans "want." And I've seen dreck that gets loads of attention because the writer panders to the audience. Sometimes, a good story gets good notice and I'm re-inspired to write again. **

**I'll probably be hangin' for awhile just to see if my latest gets any nibbles or flack or the Nobel Prize for Literature. And there **_**are**_** a few stories that I quite enjoy in this fandom, so we'll see how it goes. I like to sample different fandoms to see who the gracious and talented writers are and who the mean-spirited and insecure writers are. This fandom has both and the gracious ones are really great - excellent at their craft and genuinely nice people. The mean-spirited and insecure may have talent but it's hard to look past their cruelty (and I'm a snark so I know Bullying vs. Snark when I read it). Great writers take reviews (even the scathing ones) in stride without a murmur of discontent. Mediocre writers don't because, deep down, they know they're mediocre. Let's leave it at that.**


End file.
